Another Teenaged Dream
by Aelia Weasley
Summary: The night before The Battle of the Seven Potters, the Order of the Phoenix is gathered at the Burrow to formulate a plan. Hermione shares her insight. A follow-up in Hermione's perspective to "Teenaged Dream". SeraphimNoted, you asked for a follow-up, so I was happy to oblige. I hope you enjoy it!


**If you can't tell by the title, this is a follow-up to Teenaged Dream. From Hermione's perspective. Yes, its smutty. **

**Thanks for reading, feel free to leave a review!**

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Infuriating.

Ronald Weasley.

They were synonymous at times in my mind. He could be rude, immature and bull-headed, he didn't pay enough attention to his schoolwork, and was too often dependent on me for help. But I admit, I didn't walk away.

Abandoning my friendship with Ron was as impossible as anything could ever be. Ron, Harry and I were going to go together to find Voldemort's horcruxes, come hell or high water. The first step was getting Harry to the safety of the Burrow. The plan was as simple as it was suicidal. We: Ron, myself, Fred, George, Fleur and the odious Mundungus Fletcher would use Polyjuice Potion to transform into Harry. Mad-Eye's theory was, as we left Harry's Aunt and Uncle's home on Privet Drive at nightfall even if we came under attack, the Death Eaters wouldn't know which Harry was the real one, giving him the best chance at getting away in one piece.

Hagrid volunteered to escort the real Harry on Sirius' motorbike. It was fitting. He'd dropped him off with those awful relatives of Harry's all those years ago. Hagrid was the perfect person to get him out again. There would have been poetry in it if it weren't, as I've already noted, the most mental plan ever.

"Harry won't stand for it." I said at the meeting. "There is no way he'll go along with all of us taking that risk."

Ron nodded, he knew Harry as well as I did.

"It won't be up for discussion, Miss Granger." Mad-Eye said looking at me with his unsettling mismatched eyes.

"I know it isn't. I'm just trying to dispel any delusions you might have about Harry. He's brave. He'd rather take on 1000 Death Eaters himself than see any of us risk our necks for him." I saw Ron smile out of the corner of my eye.

"Hermione's right. We might have to...gently persuade him that this is the best course of action." He said. It made my pulse rush to hear him praise me. I looked around the room and all of us who knew Harry best were clearly in agreement.

"Piss on that, Ron. Miss Granger, I have no doubt of Potter's fortitude or I wouldn't be risking my own ruddy neck for him." Mad-Eye said. "If he won't hand over the ingredient we need for the potion, I elect _you_ to take it by force."

"Me?!" I yelped. "Sir, I don't know if I could just...rip hairs out of anyone's head, let alone my best friend..." Ron hardened his stare on Mad-Eye. He looked like he was ready to come to my defense.

"You'll do it, Miss Granger. Because you care about him as much as anyone else in this room and you know this is our best bet to keep the boy alive." Mad-Eye crossed his arms over his chest and nodded, making it clear there would be no further discussion.

I rolled my lips inward and bit down. Taking a deep breath, I finally nodded my agreement. Harry needed to remain living with his relatives for as long as possible, where he had protection. As soon as Harry's birthday came on the 31st and he came of age, the Trace would be lifted. And Voldemort would surely be prepared to attack him the moment he was able to locate Harry on the quiet little street in Surrey.

I looked to my left at Ron. He nodded at me and put a friendly hand on my shoulder. "It won't be as much fun as smacking Malfoy across the face, Mione, but you can do it. Hell, if Harry fights, I'll hold him down for you." He joked, winking. I smiled back.

Mione. Only Ron called me that. I wasn't sure when he started doing it, but I loved hearing the term of endearment from his lips. I was never fond of nicknames - to tell the truth. When I heard about "Harry Potter" from every witch and wizard I encountered in Diagon Alley when I was first shopping for my school supplies, I assumed his given name was Henry, like the Prince. Henry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. I shake my head looking back at my 11 year old self. So much to prove, such a Muggleborn chip on my shoulder. I was so serious, so tightly-wound. The boys who became my best friends in the entire world were perhaps the two people most opposite my serious nature. They pulled me out of my head, out of my safe little world of books. Granted, when they did that I was usually tossed into a situation that nearly got me killed but I loved them.

One perhaps more than the other.

I can't recall the moment I fell in love with Ron. It's like trying to remember the first time you heard your favorite song. Just when you think you remember, you think of an instance even further back in time. It came gradually; as I said, he could be infuriating. Sadly enough for me, I was completely conscious of how deeply I wanted him on the night in the Common Room when Lavendar Brown sunk her hooks into him. I saw her kiss him, not expecting him to actually kiss her back. My eyes grew hot and I felt sick. Then I went and made it worse, setting those canaries on him.

So jealous, Hermione. Jealous of a girl who turned his head while you lived in the "Friend-Zone". I was so sure he thought of me as a sister by the time he and Lavendar started "Snog-Fest 1996" as I called it. Harry and I were very much like siblings. As fit as the other girls in our year thought Harry was, and yes, his green eyes _are_ lovely, I never saw him as anything more than my messy-haired brother.

Ron, however was an entirely different story. I can't put it into words. He's tall and slender but muscular from hours of playing Quidditch. Oh, how I loved standing next to him after he'd been flying. I loved the wild smell of his skin; the way he smelled as if he'd just been dancing with the wind. It was a deep scent, freshly- cut grass mixed with perspiration to be sure, but not offensive to my senses. I could never get close enough to him. If he sat by me in the Great Hall, I purposely would sit closer. Even if it meant getting remnants of his meal spattered on my clothes, I wanted to feel him near me. In classes, he'd often sit by me to copy my notes or to pick my brain for essay ideas. I pretended to be annoyed but I loved it, I loved feeling needed. Ron didn't make me feel used in that way my Muggle friends did when I was at primary school with them. He appreciated my help, so I continued to give it.

The meeting adjourned and we headed off to bed. Mad-Eye assigned Ron to fly on a broom with Tonks and I would ride on a thestral with Kingsley. I obviously knew Ron and I would be separated for the journey to his home, but I was scared to death that something would happen to him before I got to tell him everything in my heart.

"You ok? You look faraway tonight." He came up behind me and his hand grazed mine as he walked around to face me.

"Yeah, thanks. It's just all very..."

"Completely fucking mental?" He always knew what to say to make me smile.

"Basically, yes. It is completely mental." I nodded at him. I looked up into the cerulean pools of his eyes. Our gaze lingered; I watched his eyes nearly turn black as his pupils dilated. He licked his bottom lip as he always did when he was nervous and took a step closer to me. I felt him take my hand.

"Mione, if anything...doesn't go according to plan..."

"'Scuse me. Where's the WC round 'ere? Oi, Mad-Eye don't think we could have a kip d'you? Where's that bottle a' whisky I liberated from that Muggle pub?" Mundungus squeezed in between us, forcing us apart.

My heart pounded so furiously against my rib cage, I was sure Ron could see my chest rattling.

"Better get some sleep, then." I said at last. He sighed and his shoulders slouched.

"Yeah. Going to be a hell of a day tomorrow. And then there's the wedding after that." My breath fell dead in my lungs until I recalled that Ron was talking about Bill and Fleur's wedding. Sure that he could read my expression, I laughed and covered my face with my hands, smoothing them back into my hair. When I looked at him again, he was grinning.

"So, can I ask you something before we go to bed?" He lowered his voice. I tried to keep my mind clear of thoughts of Ron and beds.

"Of course." I replied, clearing my throat.

"I hope you'll save a dance for me. Maybe more than one? At Bill's wedding. I didn't get to dance with you at the Yule Ball and I wish I had." I felt my face burn hot. He bit his lip and looked at his feet, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

"Sounds brilliant." I replied after my brain and my heart allowed me to speak. "Sweet dreams, Ron." I said.

"Sweet dreams." He repeated. The grin on his face as he walked away brought up so many questions in my mind but the room was spinning so quickly, I didn't know which way was up.

I settled into my usual place in Ginny's room and tried to read a bit. I held my wand under my arm, the glowing tip pointed at the book I was balancing on my knees. Ginny hadn't come up to bed yet. I heard the door open so I marked my page in the book, nox'd my wand and tucked it under my pillow. I settled down into bed and pulled the covers up. I felt his presence standing over me and I turned.

"Hey." The room was dark, I couldn't make out his face, but there was no mistaking that voice or the freshly-cut grass scent that gave me the collywobbles.

All at once I felt very small. "Hi, Ron. You ok?" I got a shiver that started in my knickers, spreading out through my limbs.

"No. Not ok, actually." He slowly dropped to a crouched position, making our faces nearly even with each other.

"Do you need some tea or something? I could get it for you..." I offered.

"Everything I need is in this bed." He said. I nearly passed out as his face collided with mine and I tasted his soft lips. His lips were sweet, like he'd very recently been eating chocolate. Knowing Ron, he probably had been. Again and again our mouths met each other with soft sucking sounds when we lashed our tongues together. He pushed the bedclothes out of his way and climbed in with me. It wasn't until then that I noticed he wasn't wearing a shirt. It was July and hot but I simply couldn't sleep without a blanket, whatever the weather. It always made me feel protected. Ron made it exceedingly clear that he intended to be my blanket.

I had my arms around his neck and he pushed my shirt up over my breasts while he kissed me. I felt his hands take hold and squeeze, rolling my nipples in between his fingers. Someone was moaning, I realized it was me. His mouth moved to my neck, up to my earlobe. His breath was hot in my ear.

"If I die tomorrow, I want you to be mine when I go." I heard him whisper. One of his hands still cupped and molded my breast, the other found its way to my navel and was lightly teasing circles around my stomach.

"You're not going to die, Ron." a choked voice came out of my throat.

"I still want you to be mine." He replied. I felt his hand drop lower to my inner thigh, only millimetres from my groin.

"I am."

It all happened so fast after that. My pyjamas were torn off, his fell to the floor and I felt his warm muscular legs tangle with mine. He dragged his fingers through my wild mess of hair, lightly tugging on it as he probed my mouth with his tongue.

I felt a cold air rush over my body and his warmth was slowly shifting downward. He licked the beauty spot just below my navel. I let loose a muffled "Aaah..." feeling his fingers trace up between my thighs.

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He said, kissing my stomach. I took hold of his shoulders and pulled him back up on top of me. I lifted a leg over one of his pulling him closer.

"Ooh fuck Hermione I want you. Right now, tell me I can have you..." He roughly rocked his body up and down on top of me. I felt him hard on my leg. It would be easy, just a simple shift of my hips and he'd be right where I imagined him being a hundred times.

Ginny flicked the light on. "Oh! Hermione, I'm so sorry! I didn't think you were in here!" She switched the light off again and I heard her flop down on her bed.

"Where else would I be?" I knew it wasn't her fault, but if that was a dream and she interrupted it, She deserved a little bit of my ire.

"With Ron in his room, of course!" She sounded exasperated.

"And why would I be in Ron's room?"

"Oh, please, Hermione. Please,_ please_ tell me you're joking. For fuck's sake. The brightest witch of our age and you can't tell what's 6 centimetres from your face! Argh!" I heard her bed springs creak as they always did when she rolled over to face the wall. She didn't say anything else for a while Just as I was drifting off to sleep, she might have said:

"My brother loves you."

But I'll never be sure of what she said. I was hoping when I got back to sleep, Ron would be back in my bed, waiting.


End file.
